This morning's paper reported on yesterday's so-called "Beer Summit," at which President Obama tried to lay some healing hands on Professor Henry Louis Gates, Jr. and Officer James Crowley. Vice President Joe Biden joined the festivities.

The article concluded with this line: "The four men munched peanuts and pretzels out of small silver bowls." That was a prompt I couldn't possibly resist.

Warning: Contains Adult Language. All characters and dialogue are fictional.

A BEER IN THE ROSE GARDEN

-A One Act Play-

by Mighty Toy Mamet

SCENE:

A picnic table in a verdant garden. In the background we see a white, colonnaded mansion. The table is set with small silver bowls filled with pretzels and peanuts. An ornate silver punch bowl with ice is on a side table. We see the necks of beer bottles sticking out of the ice. Four men are seated at the table drinking beer from glass mugs. They are casually dressed, as if preparing for a round of golf. A man in a white jacket stands at attention next to the punch bowl.

BARRY:

Hank...Hank...Hank. Okay. Hank. Look.

[taking a long pull on his beer, holding his hand up to halt the conversation]

Give Jim a chance to speak his mind, Hank. He’s a good man. We know what he is. He's fine. All I'm saying, Hank, is it looks like he made a mistake ... wait, wait, wait… that’s all I’m saying is give him another chance to explain here.

I don't want to tell you your job. I’m no professor, and I don’t want to pretend like I know what happened that night.

HANK:

That’s bullshit.

BARRY:

All that I'm saying is this. Things get set. I know. You know they do, you get a certain mindset... A guy gets a reputation. We know how this...all I'm saying, let’s get this thing beyond us and move on from here.

HANK:

Look, Barry. You may think this is going to blow over. Blow over and, what, be forgotten? Maybe you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be ...[pause] Shit. Never mind ...

BARRY:

... No. Hank. C’mon. What are you saying? Are you saying I don’t know what it’s like to be ... What? I mean, what are you saying here? Are you ...

HANK:

... No, no, no, no ...

BARRY:

... back up a second here. Because I’m where I am now, that means I ... what? I don’t remember where I was before? That’s just bullshit, Hank.

JIM:

Hey. Listen. I appreciate the beer, but I told the kids we’d see the space museum before we go home. Hard Rock Café too.

Due respect, I thought Boston was hot in July. Give me another one of those fucking beers. I don’t care which kind. Red Stripe, Blue Moon. I’d even drink some of that yellow Chinese beer. What’s it called? Ching Chong? Good with chow mein though.

[During the following, Barry is intently watching a fly buzzing around the table]

HANK:

Look. I mean, speaking of China. China, that’s the whole problem. I was tired after, what? 20 hours on a plane. You would too. You ever flown from China? No. No, I wouldn’t expect you would have been to China. Not lately.

What we’re going to do is this. What we’re going to do is make happy. You know how to make happy? You know how to make nice? Let’s just call it our happy ending. Tyrone, what’s the word Carter called it?

TYRONE:

Détente?

BARRY:

That’s right ...

TYRONE:

Rapprochement?

BARRY:

That too. We’re going to ...

TYRONE:

Agree that this was a candid but friendly discussion between honorable men?

BARRY:

Yeah. That’s it. Thank you, Tyrone.

Then Jimbo here is going to have his picture taken with my lovely wife. And then some TV reporter is going to kiss his ass to get an interview tomorrow morning. Right? A big hero and martyr. Another Captain Sulley. Until some grizzly bear is caught on video with his head stuck in what? Stuck in a friggin’ can and the cable news guys decide to run that instead of this story. And then ...

JIM:

I was thinking that, also ... I mean, maybe ...

BARRY:

... and then he’ll get a six figure deal book deal for his memoirs. Right? Don’t think about seven figures, cracker. Don’t start thinking you’re worth that.

JIM:

But. But. The helicopter ride?

BARRY:

... and then what? Then, he’s going to shut the fuck up until he’s an old man. That’s what he’s going to do. And when he’s an old, old man with withered nuts, you know what he’s going to do? I’ll tell you what. That’s when he’ll tell his grandkids all about it. He’ll be drooling in a cup, and he’ll be telling ‘em what a big deal he used to be. That’s what he’ll be saying. But you know what? You want to know what? Nobody ... I mean nobody is going to give a rat’s ass about any of that. They’ll be thinking about how bad he smells. He’ll tell them what a big man he was and they won’t be listening. They’ll be looking at the door.

Are we good here, boys? Everybody?

[Jim nods]

HANK:

Now. What? What am I getting? I’m getting jack, I think. A beer? That’s it? That's all I'm getting out of this? I’m the one. I’m the one who’s had his dignity, what? Taken. Stripped away? I guess that’s always the deal, isn’t it? I walk out of here and make the apologies. “I regret the misunderstanding.” Is that how it goes? I say, “I welcome this learning ... this ... what? This teaching moment?” Is that my cross to bear?

BARRY:

Yeah. No. No. Wait a minute Hank. What do you want, Hank? You want Jesse and Al to have a beer with you too? You got me doing this. Do I want to be doing this?

JOE:

You know what I think we ought to ...

BARRY:

You think we care what you think?

JOE:

I just ...

BARRY:

This is what you’re just going to do, Joe. You are not going to say anything about this thing we’re doing. You are not going to. No. It’s like you weren’t even here. Right? Right? Drink your beer and shut the fuck up.

HANK:

Hey ... that thing. What?

JIM:

Can I go now? Leave, I mean? Maybe take a beer with me? For my wife. She’s waiting. She's somewhere, waiting for me.

BARRY:

Get out of here. We’re done. Don’t forget to smile for the fuckin’ cameras on your way out.

6 comments:

I want to see and hear this on stage. Portland needs a weekly comedy/satire/agit-prop theater with fresh material every show, or at least every weekend. Hot off the Twitters. Kind of like the old Living Newspapers.

Ripped from the headlines or hot off twitter would keep things fresh, though anybody looking back at my little play a few weeks from now may have no sense of context. Bob's comment sparked me to look up the Living Newspapers (thank you google and wikipedia). Fascinating stuff.